The Broken Hearts Club, Party of One
by Call It Hope
Summary: Based on the characters from the HP Mystery app. While at the wedding of Bill Weasley, Abigail is confronted by a surge of unwanted memories and feelings which she has kept hidden ever since the break-up, and in the style of a Pensive, she dives back into those memories in order to figure out how to deal with her present predicament-pining after someone else's groom.
1. Chapter 1

**ALERT: Please do not leave any comments that spoil anything in the HP Mystery game, okay? I'm only into 2** **nd** **year, and this really doesn't give anything away. I'm really only using the characters and the ships I've made so far. Nothing that you will see here is taken from the game other than the characters' dispositions and simple stuff like that. So if you are farther in the game than me, and see some inaccuracy because there's something that I don't know about that happens to one of the characters or something, please please** _ **please**_ **don't let me know! I'm just writing this to have fun and to share possible ships with the world. I love peoples' comments (for example, I would love to know if you like my ships as well or if you like the story!), but I don't want the game to be ruined for anyone! Thank you! Also, thank you to 98 for telling me that the first version of this chapter I had up was all in code. Hopefully, that is fixed!**

I didn't really know where to look. Every sight seemed to bring up another unwanted memory. They were like Grindylows at the first sign of weakness, suddenly thousands of them, pulling me down into the depths of feelings that hadn't surfaced for a long time. _Well_ , they seemed to be saying as their spiny little fingers clung to me desperately, _if you won't let them come up, we'll bring you to them._

I thought my chest might explode when I saw him for the first time. All I could think of was that day in the middle of November, fifth year, when Rowan had come to me to tell me something I couldn't believe.

The First Memory:

I had been snoozing in the comfort of the Hufflepuff common room, shielding the light from my eyes with a particularly long parchment of notes for my Potions exam, when Rowan flew into the common room and plopped onto the sofa beside me.

"Mm!"

"Abigail, guess what," Rowan said, shoving the parchment off my face and onto the floor.

"The stress of OWLs has finally made you crack, you're about to go on a crusade to stop all studying," I grumbled, not pleased that she had woken me up. She rolled her eyes.

"You were napping, and everyone within earshot knows it."

I ignored the crack about my snoring.

"What's happened?" I asked instead. She looked around, satisfied herself that no one worth keeping secrets from was around (RIP, two first year boys giggling over some drawing in their transfiguration book), then turned to me, a strange half grin on her face.

"Bill Weasley's been talking about you."

I perked up immediately.

"Has he been telling people about our next duel? Oh, that idiot, he's going to be absolutely trashed in front of _everyone_! He does know that he's already lost like a million duels to me in the time that we've known each other, doesn't he? Oh, Merlin, Rowan, this is going to be hilarious. I will _never_ let him live this down—"

"It's not about your duel," Rowan interrupted me, her face somewhat deflated now, as if it had had time to consider and perhaps reevaluate the emotions she had surrounding this news. I stared at her.

"Not about—well, what is it?" I tried to think of something he might be talking about with other people. I came up empty. "Have I done something to him?"

Rowan shook her head, and some of her hair fell into her face, obscuring her features. She didn't bother moving it as she answered me.

"He's been… _talking_ about you."

"Oh… _talking_ …" I was still slightly lost. "What were his exact words?" I asked, hoping for a clue.

"He was asking me whether I thought you would go to Hogsmeade with him."

Oh. _Talking_. My face became immediately a dark red. Bill Weasley _talking_ about me.

"Oh." Then, another thought hit me. "Oh, Rowan, I'm so sorry. You've liked him since Merlin knows when. If he asks, I'll say no and maybe even suggest he ask you, if it seems, y'know, okay at the time. Are you okay?"

Rowan stared at me.

"You would do that?"

"Well. Yeah," I shrugged, though my chest was feeling strangely heavy. Rowan stared for a moment more before she punched my shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot! I've seen how you look at him! I can find someone else—I've always known that he and I aren't compatible. We're good study buddies, and Merlin knows he's something to look at, but we aren't…we aren't like that."

It was my turn to stare, but even in my disbelief, my heart was already pounding at the thought of the possibility ahead of me.

"But…but…at all our Puff sleepovers with Penny, you always say him as your crush. Always! That's the gag. I just…" I trailed off, not sure where to go with this. Rowan blushed, and suddenly, she was looking at the floor instead of me.

"I…er…for maybe the past year, there's…been someone…that I just…I mean…" Her voice kept getting higher and higher, and I saw her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

"Oh. My. Merlin! There's someone else! Who is he?"

Rowan blushed harder.

"No. No, not now. I—I can't. Can we just focus on your moment?"

I resisted teasing her but made her to promise to tell me later that day.

"So…" I suddenly felt myself start to blush again. I didn't like the conversation to center around my love life any more than Rowan liked it to center around hers. "What…what did you tell him?"

Rowan grinned.

"That I would send you to him in the library for you to tell him yourself."

I stared at her. Then, with a slight shriek, I took off for the library.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff!" Madam Pince screamed as I sprinted past the front desk. I found Bill near the back, looking very restless and more than a little anxious. He was twirling his wand between his fingers, unknowingly switching up the books in the shelves behind him.

"Abigail!"

"Bill!" I blurted out, sounding ridiculously out of breath. That seemed to slightly disconcert him for a moment.

"A—Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. I nodded as I sucked in the dusty air.

"Ask me," I gasped out, motioning for him to keep going. He grinned.

"Ask you what?" he said teasingly, guessing from my state what my answer would be. I picked up the Charms book he'd been reading and whacked him upside the shoulder. "Ouch! Fine, fine, Abigail?"

"Yes, Bill?" I asked, innocently batting my eyelashes for comic effect. He laughed.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

I smirked.

"No, I don't think so." And I walked away.

"Wait, wha—ABIGAIL!"

We went to Hogsmeade together that weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Please no reviews with any spoilers of the game! Thanks!**

Our eyes met as his bride was walking down the aisle. They were still hazel. Ufgh. Idiot. Still hazel? _Still_ hazel? What, did I think that his eye color had changed since the last time I'd seen him?!

Some things had changed, though. He raised his hand to the scars on his face as though suddenly self-conscious of them for the first time in a long time. I hadn't heard about that. My chest felt heavy with all the things that nobody had told me. Like that he was getting married, for one.

He was lucky I was sitting near the aisle when his bride was walking towards him. No one would have known that he wasn't completely focused on her.

He didn't remove his hand from his face until his bride, svelte, blonde, and absolutely stunning, had joined him at the makeshift altar. When he tore his gaze away from mine, it felt like he had torn out all my internal organs by one final tug at the chain that had connected us for so long.

I was sure that that would leave a deeper scar than any that either of us had ever experienced.

The Second Memory:

We had been practicing dueling with each other for a while when the accident happened. I was still just thirteen, but thanks to Bill, I was more than prepared to duel someone twice my age. There was nothing between us yet. I was still just considered his awkward younger sister while his real-life sister was absent, and he was like my cool, protective older brother because…well, that's a completely different story.

It was a chilly winter's day, but neither of us were feeling particularly cold as we flung spell after spell at each other, trying to get an advantage—any advantage—over the other. Even so, we only aimed to impair, not to seriously injure.

Rowan was watching us, a bit too timid to join in, but still there to learn as much as possible. Later, she would tell me that we looked like dancers, twisting and twirling amid the swiveling, swirling bursts of colored lights. I laughed her off at the time, said she was too romantic. But it must have been incredible, really. All the whizzing trails of light, reflecting off the winter's ice, and our smiles and laughter as we bent in all different directions to avoid or to attack.

"Is that the best you can do?" Bill taunted me, his customary twinkle in his eye as he dodged my Expelliarmus. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and he laughed as he saw how easily he could frustrate me. What he couldn't see was that I wasn't feeling right. Something…was off. My head was beginning to feel very heavy, and I was losing feeling in my arms.

"Bill…" I breathed, hardly able even to move my mouth. He didn't hear me. _BILL!_ He kept casting spells and laughing at my half-hearted attempts to defend myself. Blissfully unaware that something was slowly taking over my muscles.

" _Flipendo_!" he exclaimed, casting the spell with an elegant twist of his wand. It seemed to me to move in slow motion as it came towards me, a bright burst of orange fizzing and twirling through the air. I knew I wouldn't be able to cast any defensive spells, I couldn't even feel my upper body. Instead, I tried to dive strategically away, to land in a soft bed of snow that was only a few feet to the side.

My foot slipped on a patch of ice. I didn't reach the snowbank.

" _Abigail_!"

All I felt was pain. My head throbbed like no other pain that I had ever experienced.

"Mm…" I groaned. I could feel that my temple was sticky.

"Abigail, _Abigail_ ," Bill was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. I opened an eye to check whether he was alright, and he grinned shakily at me. "If I'd thought you were that clumsy, I'd never have let you duel me!"

I rolled my eyes. And then my eyes rolled back into my head, and I passed out.

I woke up two days later in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey told me that along with the slight flesh wound in my head, they had found traces of some petrification potion in my blood. Professor Snape had analyzed it and told Pomfrey that it was an incredibly difficult and (at this point, I imagine that he sneered) pointless potion to make unless the potioneer had a particular reason for brewing it.

When Bill came to visit me the first time, he told me gravely that he had taken care of everything before gently running his hand over the bandages on my head. I can still remember shivering at the touch of his warm hand. Rowan and Penny came in later to tell me about his duel with Merula, and how he had embarrassed her in front of practically the whole school. They both received detention, but his punishment, which was decided by Professor Snape, was significantly worse than hers. He was to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing for a week. She just had to write lines for a night. Sometimes when looking back, I have wondered whether that was as bad a punishment for him as it seemed at the time and whether Snape was trying to be kind by giving him a detention near me, where he could watch over me. But maybe that's just me being silly and romantic.

By the time I got out of the hospital wing, I had a scar running down my temple where my face had hit the pavement stones. Bill called it my battle wound, and I remember that because of the silly sense of pride that moniker gave me, I refused to let Pomfrey vanish it away.

I still had it.

And now, ironically, we matched.


	3. Chapter 3

I was trying desperately to blend in with the crowd. I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, but wouldn't it be nice, wouldn't it be just absolutely perfect, if just once—just one gorgeous, lovely time—fate worked out in my favor?

"Abigail?"

Well, fuck.

I turned around.

Holy sweet _Merlin_ , the years had been kind to him. We were still young, definitely still in our prime, but I just never thought that it could get better for him. Probably because it had only gotten worse for me. Even with the scar, he still looked as proud, as kind, as warm as ever. There was something a little bit more serious now, but who didn't look more serious in these times? Besides, it suited him.

"Congratulations," I said, smiling gently. Inside, I was desperately screaming a thousand different insanities. He didn't smile back. My heart stuck in my throat, he hadn't forgiven me, he hadn't realized what had happened.

"You look…" he started to say. I flushed and looked down at the ground.

"I know."

He gazed at me, as if contemplating a puzzle.

"I'm not sure you do," he said finally. He was about to say something else when the absolute vision that had joined him at the altar came and hung onto his arm.

"Bill? Who is this?" Oh, Merlin, she was French. Could he have found a more perfect human being to marry?

"Ah, Fleur, this is Abigail, an old friend from Hogwarts. Abigail, this is Fleur, my wife," Bill said, his voice betraying his deep discomfort. I nodded and smiled at her as best I could.

"Nice to meet you—and congratulations."

She stared at me, looking me up and down as if she were looking at a nearly-drowned sewer rat that had climbed into her bed at night.

"You will want some cake," she said, nodding at my body and then gesturing towards the table. I blushed again but tried to be gracious.

"Of course," I said with a forced smile. "Especially if Mum Weasley's made it—I never did appreciate those summers and all those lovely meals enough. Merlin, I've missed her food."

"You have stayed with the Weasleys during the summer?" There was disapproval in her voice, and it seemed that jealousy was already present in their relationship. I glanced at Bill, who seemed to be almost expressionless, as though he were trying to feel nothing about the situation.

"Er…yes, I was a particularly good friend of Charlie's. He…he invited me several times. Bill was like my older brother," I joked, desperate to make it as clear as possible that she had no reason to be jealous of me. This seemed to satisfy her.

"Ah, I see. This makes sense. Charlie has very unique taste, don't you think?"

"Summers were always something special in those days," Bill remarked. I looked up to him, surprised, and saw that he was gazing intently at me. I wasn't entirely sure what to think.

The Third Memory

It had been a hot summer all round the country, but a refreshing breeze always seemed to travel around the Burrow.  
I was sixteen-just turned, in fact. My parents, after having me around the house for a month, had been perfectly content to fob me off on the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. They came to visit pretty often, and I often saw them offer Mrs. Weasley money for the care she lavished on me-as she did with every other guest of her children. She always refused, said it was always a pleasure to host Abigail and so help me Thomas if you take that coin purse out again, you'll be leaving with a stinging spell in your rear. I loved her.  
I was friends with Charlie by that point as well, but it would have been ridiculous to say that I was there for any reason other than Bill. We spent every day with each other in some way. We weren't overly attached, we just wanted to find connection with each other whenever and wherever we could. Sometimes, I wouldn't see him for a whole day because one of us was busy with school work (me) or job interviews (him), and then just before we went to sleep, he would tiptoe into my room or I would trip my way into his, and we would talk about things with each other.  
It was one of those nights that sticks out so clearly in my mind.  
We were laying in his bed, side by side, staring up at the ceiling.  
"What did you do today?" I asked him, trying to disguise the lump in my throat without much success. I could feel his steady gaze on me, trying to assess what was wrong before he answered,  
"Had a job interview with Gringotts."  
"How did it go?"  
"Not great," he breathed out, reaching down to take my hand in his. "I think I blew another opportunity."  
I let him intertwine our fingers before squeezing his hand, making sure he could feel the cool metal of the ring he had given me for my birthday. He squeezed back.  
"Even if it...even if you did just terribly...you'll find something," I whispered. He gave my hand another squeeze.  
"Maybe." Things were quiet for another moment before he asked, "What happened to make you upset?"  
"Fuck..." I breathed out, half hoping he wouldn't hear it. His laugh suggested that he had. He rolled over on his side and propped himself up on his elbow, gazing down at me intently but with a comforting smile.  
"You can tell me."  
Could I?  
"I just...i just...i mean, it's just...nothing has happened."  
"Abigail, there are tears in your eyes. Clearly something has happened."  
"No, I just-really, there's nothing that I can think of that would start this. I just. I don't know. I'm so sad, Bill. So sad all the time. I feel...so dark. So defeated. And I just don't understand why..." To my horror, my shoulders started shaking, and tears began trickling down my cheeks at a truly embarrassing rate. I curled in towards him, and he held me there, not saying a word, just holding me. Being present. His lips lightly grazed my cheek, and I let myself sob vocally. He was warm, not in an unpleasant way, as you might suppose during the summer. His fingers pushed deep into my back, drawing me into him deeper and deeper. It was the first time I noticed my depression, that night. The first time he noticed it, too. And I may have been miserable, but I was safe. In hindsight, I could appreciate that. Later, life would show me what it was to feel unsafe while deeply depressed. But for now, I just sank into the proffered comfort and allowed him to rub my back until I fell asleep in his bed. When I woke the next morning, he was still there, awake and gazing down at me with worry.  
"Better?" He asked, pushing my hair out of my face and behind my ear. Smiling, I reached up and did the same with a strand of his auburn hair. We smiled at each other for a moment before I remembered who I was and where I was and what had happened the night before, and the smile slipped from my face as my chest became laden with guilt and inexplicable sadness.  
"I'm sorry for last night."  
His smile faltered, and he slumped back onto his pillows. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just repeated myself.  
"I'm really sorry. I know I shouldn't bother you with things that don't even make sense to me, I know it's gross and clingy and...I'm just really sorry."  
His eyes were screwed shut, and he took a moment before saying,  
"Fuck. FUCK."  
My heart jumped into my throat, and I hurried to undo the damage i had done.  
"I'll make it up to you. I swear I won't do it again, I'll be my usual, playful self. Please don't leave me!" I was already sobbing. Bill's eyes flew open and his hand reached down for mine.  
"No, no. NO. That's not what I meant. It's not what I...FUCK." he was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "You shouldn't be sorry for being...sad. You shouldn't be sorry for coming to me and talking to me about it. It's not gross. It's not clingy. If you need someone to talk to, I should be there for you."  
I shook my head, and I heard him growl slightly under his breath. "All I want for you," his voice was heavy and gruff, "is to be happy. You deserve..." he broke off for a moment and shut his eyes tightly again. "You deserve to be happy. You deserve...everything."  
I shook my head again.  
"I don't, I really don't. I'm not a good person."  
"You are."  
"I'M NOT!" I screamed at him, pushing him away from me and rolling out of bed onto the floor. The sun from the window was hitting me now, slowly covering me in the thin layer of summer sweat that is at once uncomfortable and familiar. Bill and I stared at each other, and I hated seeing the sadness in his eyes, especially knowing that I caused it.  
"Abigail."  
"If I were a good person, I would be so grateful for what I have that I would never be sad without reason. I would appreciate the people around me, and that appreciation and that gratitude would make me happy. If I were a good person, I would have found my brother by now, I would have taken him home, I wouldn't waste time listening to Merula and retaliating against her behavior, I would ignore her or...or befriend her! I wouldn't weigh you down with all this sadness that I have for no apparent reason."  
"Abigail."  
"I don't even know why you're still here. I don't know why I'm still here. I should go away, so you never have to be in my presence again. I shouldn't impose on you and your family like I do, Merlin it's disgusting. FUCK."  
Bill crawled off his bed onto the floor and took my hands in his.  
"Abigail, you're not a bad person. Even if maybe once or twice you do a bad thing like taunt Merula or something, that doesn't make you a bad person. You're not perfect, but Merlin, if you're not a good person, then the rest of us are fucking screwed."  
I wiped the obscuring tears from my eyes and looked at him closely. His face was stony, expressionless, but there was a slight spasm in his neck that let me know how difficult it was for him to keep it together. I didn't believe the things he said, but my heart filled with bittersweet warmth from his attempts to make me feel better.  
"Thank you," I mumbled, feeling more than a little embarrassed at my outburst. He pulled me into his arms and nodded. We stayed like that for a while until we were both hot and sticky sweaty from the sun's burning rays.  
"Maybe you should go see someone," he suggested as we helped each other off the ground. I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment before saying slowly,  
"I...already am." I couldn't look at him. I just felt ashamed. "I went to see Madam Pomfrey just before the summer because I was just...feeling kind of...nothing. Apathy, I guess. And she recommended a Muggle treatment called therapy. Apparently, wizards haven't gotten as far as Muggles when it comes to counteracting negative emotions. The best we have is the Pepper-up Potion." I could tell from the tension in the air that he had something to say and was just waiting for me to stop talking, but I wasn't sure I wanted him to say whatever it was. "The Pepper-up Potion can be incredibly addictive, you see, so it wouldn't be a sustainable solution to-to-to...oh, fuck it. Say it, whatever it is you have to say," I sighed, staring even more intensely at the floor than before. I couldn't look at him. But I felt his warmth as he came closer to me.  
"I..." his first word breathed out, making me flinch, expecting the worst to come from his mouth. "I am so proud of you, Abigail."  
"What?" I couldn't believe my ears.  
"I'm so proud of your courage. It takes a lot of courage to try and find help for this sort of thing at all, much less alone." He sounded so earnest that I had to see if his face reflected this. It did. His eyes were shining, and there was a small, caring smile on his mouth. "And I feel so...so honored to be trustworthy enough to hear about your struggles from you. I know it's difficult for you, and I'm just...so...glad to be able to be there for you now. I'm so glad that I can guarantee you support when you need it."  
We embraced each other again, both feeling much better. He promised me that he would be present whenever I needed him to be present from then on.  
We hadn't seen each other in five years, until today, the day of his wedding.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys. I'm grateful for you reading my story. I just wanted to put a trigger warning on this chapter. It contains strong suicidal themes, as well as body dysmorphia. Please don't read on if it will hurt you. Each chapter could be read separately, so I promise you're not missing a key part of the story. I would rather you miss part of her backstory than you hurt yourself.**

Fleur looked between me and Bill. I don't think she liked what she saw, even though from my perspective, there was nothing there. Not anymore.

"We should really see other guests—so many people want to speak with us," she said with a saccharine smile. I nodded. I couldn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. My chest felt like it was about to explode.

I watched them walk away, and I was about to turn and go grab a drink (or a few) when I heard Fleur whisper in an audible tone,

"Bill, she is so fat—bigger even than your mother. How could you ever know someone like that? What if she is in our wedding photos? I do not want that in my wedding album!"

Bill glanced back at me, but he didn't say anything. Just ushered her away.

I didn't want anyone to look at me. I didn't want anyone to know I was even there. Every ounce of my body felt like it was stretched and heavy and pulling me towards the ground. I almost fell into a nearby chair. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Someone said something to me, someone put cake in front of me, I hardly realized what was happening. I ate. I could feel myself expanding with every bite. I could feel the stares of the people around me. I could feel their judgements. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. It was like the ticking of the clock.

One memory dug its claws into my gut, wrapped its tentacles around my oversized waist and dragged me down to a dark place to which I had hoped never to return in my lifetime.

The Fourth Memory

I could hear everything. For one moment, it all became clear. My roommates, in the room next door. Talking about their immersive Muggle Studies program, how insane it was to see what the Muggles thought worth teaching in their "universities," how they couldn't stand the amount of homework they had, how much they couldn't wait for the Friday trek to the college parties. The penetrating drip, drop of water as it circled down the drain. The rowdy lads just coming away from the pub down the street.

Takes forever. Drip. Oi oi! Physics-bollocks, more like. Drop. Wheyyyyyyyy! Newton? ,ladies?Conservation,thatmakessensedroptothepubsomuchmathdripyourroundithinkisthereaspellthatcandothisdrop.

I was going to do it.

The thought frightened me in its clarity.

I was going to do it.

I was sure.

Nothing could stop me.

I wasn't going to let anyone fool me. I wasn't worth it. I wasn't worth anything. What had I ever done? What had I ever accomplished? Here I was, in the supposed prime of my life—miserable. Selfish. Pathetic. My life was equal to a glass of goblin's piss.

I would never.

Be worth.

Anything.

In the back of my head, I felt something throbbing. Screaming. That one ounce of life that I had left in me. That one ounce of hope. It would be gone soon. It would all be gone.

The lights seemed so bright, so searingly bright that I felt as though I had already passed through to the other side.

I drew the pill bottle to my lips-for a moment, one blind and inexplicable moment, comparing myself to Socrates. But I had no apology to make, and my last days were over. This was no goblet of wine and hemlock raised before me. There was no noble cause behind me.

Only weakness.

As the pills fell gently into my mouth, each one a soft, cold bundle of God knows what, I stared down the hollow tunnel of the pill bottle. Even after all the pills rested safely on my tongue, I stared towards the end. Cold and sterile, the only warmth in the color and even that was somehow a frigid orange. There was no light at the end.

I was scared.

I swallowed.

I waited.


	5. Chapter 5

"Abigail?" It was Rowan. She smiled tiredly and plopped down next to me. "I'm exhausted."

"I don't really care," I said, surprising myself by how bitterly I meant it. To her credit, Rowan looked slightly guilty.

"I needed to bring someone. Penny had to stay home with the kids."

"You could have gone with anyone. Hell, Charlie could have taken you as his date."

"Yeah, I'm sure the confirmed bachelor would really appreciate having a mother of two killing his vibe all night."

"Tonks, then."

"With her dishy professor."

"Ben."

"You know they're in hiding," Rowan said in a low voice, leaning towards me. Then, she straightened back up and said in her regular voice, "Besides, it would be really awkward for Ben to be here. He and Bill never made up after-you know."

I scoffed.

"Yeah, that must be so hard for them," I said, rolling my eyes. "Because they had _such_ a connection before that."

"Well, Ben looked up to Bill."

"I can't believe you're sitting here telling me that it would be worse for Ben to be here than me," I said, standing and walking away from her. I couldn't stay there and listen to that idiocy. Rowan was smart, but that logic just didn't hold. I felt tears crowd in the corners of my eyes, and I headed for the tent's exit. I needed to clear my mind. I needed I needed I needed—

The cool wind outside stung at my cheeks, reminding me of a different stinging feeling from a long time ago, a feeling I had never forgotten.

The fifth memory:

When Ben told me, I thought it was the sweetest thing I had ever heard. Quite unexpected, but somehow all the more charming for that.

He and Merula were in love. I'd noticed that she'd stepped back from the usual conflicts lately, but I had just thought that she had finally tired of what the rest of us had been exhausted by for a long time. He told me about how they had been forced to work together during Potions, and how he had finally exploded at her one day, taking them both by surprise. It triggered something for both. She had been his bully, but his outburst had given her a healthy dose of respect for her. It made her realize what she was doing and how difficult it would be to reverse the effects of it if she continued on her current path. For him, it gave him self-respect, made him realize that she had no evil power over him, that she was just a human, not a monster. On a shallower level, it made her realize just how deep his voice had become, and it made him really take notice of how wide her bright brown eyes really were.

They had my wholehearted support.

However, there were some obvious obstacles to their relationship. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor in a romantic relationship was nearly impossible in those days. Each house was so dead set against the other, each side would have done all they could to prevent such a match. And that, in the end, was the whole reason they told me at all. They needed my help.

Ben asked me to cover for them whenever they were together. They would spend that time in the Artefact room, Ben using his immense Charms talent to set as many locks on the door as possible, and Merula using her Dark Arts knowledge to set a few (almost) harmless jinxes and curses on the door. But they needed it to be well-known that when Merula disappeared, Ben did not disappear at the same time. Merula being gone would attract no notice, but Ben-well, after second year, Ben could never go missing for a day without someone commenting on it. So I would tell people that he was with me, in the kitchens or in the library-just somewhere that nobody would necessarily be able to fact-check me.

At first, things were fine. Around once a week, I would "study" or "go eat" with Ben. No one commented, it was natural for me to do something with each friend around that frequently anyway.

But then they got greedy.

It became twice a week, then thrice, then every day.

I was suddenly "spending time with Ben" more often than I had ever done before.

Naturally, the Hogwarts rumour mill had a field day, and soon, I was faced with something that I didn't have very much experience with: a jealous, frustrated Bill.

I was so excited to see him, it wasn't often that he got a chance to come visit Hogsmeade on the same day that I did. It had been a month or so since the last time I had seen him, and I could still remember the terms on which we parted. My lips had been so sore, red, and puffy that I skived off classes the next day just to avoid the inevitable embarrassment surrounding the telltale signs of snogging. This time, I was hoping for a repeat performance. I had almost run to the Three Broomsticks, and I hurried to our usual booth. He wasn't there yet, which was disappointing. I sat down with a slightly heavy heart, and Madam Rosmerta came up to take my order.

"Hello, gorgeous, where's that boy of yours?" she asked with a wink.

"I'm not sure. He should be here soon, I guess."

"Well, if last time was any indication, I'd say he won't keep you waiting long."

My cheeks burned, but I would rather take that from Madam Rosmerta than from anyone else. I ordered two Butterbeers and some pumpkin pasties for us to enjoy together.

It was just after the food came and I had started nibbling on one of the pumpkin pasties that he entered the pub.

"Bill!" I called, standing up and waving from our booth. He came over slowly. When he finally got to the table, I threw my arms around him and breathed in his warm scent. He didn't return the embrace, so I pulled away. "Bill?"

"We need to talk," he said, stone-faced. I sat down.

"O-okay. Is everything alright?"

He was silent for a long time. Finally, he reached for his mug of Butterbeer and took a huge swig before saying,

"I know about you and Ben Copper."

I didn't even realize what he was talking about at first.

"Me and Ben Copper?" This seemed to make him angrier.

"I know that you've been cheating on me. With Copper." I laughed. That was a mistake, as he burst out,"IS THIS FUNNY TO YOU?!"

The Three Broomsticks fell silent.

"Bill, no-Bill..."

"I should have known you were too immature to be counted on."

"Bill, I'm not cheating on you."

This time, he laughed.

"Don't try to backtrack now. Charlie's told me everything. How much time you spend with him."

"Bill, no!" I hissed, not wanting to make a scene. "That's not what that's about!"

He seemed to calm down for a moment, and he asked in a low voice,

"Well, then what is it about?"

Everyone was staring at us, I saw Merula sitting at a table with her friends. I had never seen her more scared in her life. That's what made my decision.

"I can't tell you." Bill barked a laugh. "If it was my secret, I would, but it's not mine. It's Ben's. I can't...I can't do that to him. It's delicate."

"I don't believe you, Abigail." I was so close to tears, all I could do was shake my head. "I was just waiting until you graduated to propose. I was going to spend my whole fucking life with you. I loved you."

"I love you too, Bill," I whispered, unable to stop tears from trickling down my cheeks. For a moment, his face went blank, and I thought he was going to give in, to say okay I believe you, I don't want to leave you, I want to be with you forever.

But he just turned and walked out of the pub. And that was it.

As the customary pub chatter resumed, I curled up in our booth and cried. Madam Rosmerta came over for a few minutes with some chocolate and a complimentary glass of Firewhiskey, since I was of age. She hugged me and whispered soft comforts in my ear until I at least wasn't sobbing anymore. Then, she all but forced the chocolates and alcohol down my throat. It was the first and last time I ever had Firewhiskey.

I knew then that my life was over.

 **I would really appreciate any reviews you guys could give me. Are my characters too melodramatic? Are my plot points implausible or cliché? I would appreciate all the writing help I could get.**


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